


Pharos

by QueenOfHades



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Reader, Memory Loss, No use of y/n, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Sassy Reader, Series Spoilers, Slow Burn, The Mandalorian Isn’t Good at Emotions, The Reader Calls Mando a Buckethead, The Reader Has No Chill, The Reader is Treading on THIN ICE with Mando, The Reader is Trying to Be a Badass, no beta we die like men, the Reader is Lowkey Kinda Rude, the tags will probably be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfHades/pseuds/QueenOfHades
Summary: You woke up on an unfamiliar planet with no recollection of how you got there or who you were. All you know is that you need to find him; he is your pharos, your beacon, and while he may do everything in his power to prevent you from tagging along, you somehow always find your way back, even if he was kind of a jerk with a bucket on his head that he claimed he couldn’t remove.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	1. Prologue: The Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader wakes up on an unfamiliar planet with no recollection of how she got there and is given a mission by an unknown voice.

Loneliness. The first thing I could feel when I drifted back into the land of the living was the absolute feeling of isolation, followed by the steely chill that could only come from rapidly dropping temperatures. My heart was racing, the blood rushing in my ears, while I willed my sluggish mind back into motion.

I kept my eyes shut, hoping that I would be able to turn my focus inwards as I tried to remember the events that got me here.Indistinct shouting, a shadowed figure, and a blaze of green light were all I could recall before a shiver wracked its way down my spine. I knew I would need to move or I would freeze to death; all the minor details — what happened, how I got here, my  _ name _ — I would figure out later. I steeled myself, a picture of the barren whiteness of the snow and plateaued glaciers flashing into my mind, and then opened my eyes.I then slammed them shut again.

This couldn’t be right.I fixated on how moments before, my bones had threatened to separate themselves from the way the cold had violently made me spasm. How the snow had felt against my back, seeping into my skin in a way that simultaneously made me numbingly burn.How the wind had howled so loudly that the rationalizations my brain had just tried so hard to grasp onto scattered away in the roar.Yet, when I had opened my eyes, everything was so...  _ green _ .

Slowly, I opened them again, blinking rapidly in the sunlight as my surroundings sank in.As my eyes adjusted, I glanced up at the towering trees and the clear blue sky.The frigid air was nothing but a passing warm breeze, the snow was instead a lush bed of moss, and the wind was actually a rushing stream beside me.I had not found myself in a frozen hell, I had found myself in a luxuriant paradise.

Maybe I was already dead? The thought didn’t scare me as much as it should have as I wiggled my fingers and toes, taking stock of any injuries I might have collected along the way. I felt relatively fine, although there was a dull throb on my right temple that suggested I may not have been completely unscathed. Lifting a shaking hand, I brushed my fingers against my forehead, wincing at the tenderness and the stickiness of blood that was on its way to drying. That may have explained the lack of recollection, but still didn’t explain the completely wrong reaction my body was having to the environment around me before I was truly aware of my surroundings.

I wiped my hand on my pants, hoping I didn’t just extend a warm invite to some kind of nasty infection. Green and brown and blue and now red — the colors around me — definitely were not what I had been expecting, especially since I could so clearly visualize what I had thought I was about to be faced with. Where am I? Who am I?

_ You must find him._

The voice made me spring up, much faster than I was apparently ready for, as I dropped back to my hands and knees, my head spinning. I felt the mud squelch under my kneecaps as I tried to ground myself once more, taking deep breaths to ward off the dizziness. When I felt like my stomach wasn’t about to make its way up to meet my teeth, I picked my head up again, glancing around with wide eyes.

“H-Hello?” I called out, voice raspy from disuse.A few birds flew from the trees, startled at the sudden sound, and a different kind of chill raised the hair on the back of my neck when I realized they didn’t have the same reaction to the voice I had heard earlier. Still, I tried again, “Who’s there? Find whom?”

_You must find him_.  


There was the voice again, and as I squinted and looked around, I still couldn’t see anybody else. The voice had sounded muffled to me, as if it were in my own head, and it seemed familiar. Surely, I couldn’t be dead, I surmised, because dead people definitely weren’t this crazy.

“Alright, ghost person,” I grumbled, sitting back on my haunches and wiping the mud from my hands off on my pants. I thought they may have once been tan, but they were covered in all sorts of earthy tones now.I could think more about my laundry situation later. “Who are you, who am I, and who am I supposed to find?”

_ When you find him, you will know._

As if that wasn’t the most ambiguous thing I had ever heard. I pulled a face, glaring at the closest tree I could find and hoped that the disembodied voice would sense my annoyance. I probably should have been scared, but I was too pissed to rationalize my emotions right now.

“Ok, when I find him, I will know,” I mocked, crossing my arms across my chest. Sarcastically, I threw out, “any other words of advice?”

_Remember your training_.

My training? I couldn’t even remember my name! I thought about responding again, but before I could think of what else to retort, I realized that my head felt completely open, as if it had been sharing the space with the voice. I blinked twice, somehow knowing that if I asked another question, I wouldn’t get any more responses.

I’m alone, I told myself, running my hands up and down the opposite arm in a helpless display of self-comfort. I was alone and I didn’t know where I came from or who I am. I was alone and I was talking to the most unhelpful voice in the galaxy, so I might be alone and also crazy.

I was definitely alone, but as I took my time standing up, compartmentalizing my more troublesome thoughts to deal with later — such as how the bag I had spotted a little ways away from me had mysteriously found its way into my open palm as if connected with some kind of invisible string — so I could instead figure out what to do next, I came to the jarring realization that the feeling of being freezing, much like the impossibly detached loneliness I had felt earlier, wasn’t my own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up folks, it’s my first fic! Along with each chapter, I’ll be putting some companion songs down. These aren’t really a specific genre, just what was going through my head when writing the specific chapter. 
> 
> Companion Songs:  
> 1) Stranded Lullaby (Miracle Music)  
> 2) The Long and Winding Road (The Beatles)


	2. Chapter 1: The Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader manages to secure transport off the planet with the help of a mysterious orange woman. As she struggles to understand the specifics of what she’s meant to do, she spots an interesting figure across a cantina.

As I huddled over my watered-down soup, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible in the corner of the rowdy cantina I found myself in, I brooded, still pissed beyond words at the inconsiderate ghostly voice and the lack of progress I had made. 

Physically, I was in pretty good shape. By sheer luck, I had somehow managed to find civilization on the planet I was on when I stumbled across what I had thought was a dilapidated castle and strung together a sob-story about how I was orphaned and needed to get off-planet to start searching for my extended family.I would have felt guilty about if it weren’t for the fact that my story _could_ have been true for all I knew.I remembered the brief panic that washed over me at the way the little orange lady’s eyes initially narrowed at my tale and I had held my breath as she regarded me a moment before nodding and basically commanding one of her patrons, a smuggler, to let me hitch a ride free of charge. 

I had thanked the old woman profusely — I now wished I remembered her name, but chalked that up to the recent head injury and general memory loss — and marveled at how she seemed to rule the roost from the way she was able to procure my transport.She brushed off my thanks, insisting she was cashing in on a favor, and had given me food, a sizable amount of credits, and a washcloth for my head.I had wondered at her generosity to a complete stranger and how she hadn’t inquired more about my background or even my name, but as I had sat and held myself back from scarfing down my simple meal, I had realized that perhaps she was used to discretion from the shifty folk that seemed to linger around her. 

When the Smuggler was ready to leave, I had thanked the orange woman again, and she simply pointed to the sign above the door that read _All Are Welcome_ in what looked like various languages. Still, she had had a strangely knowing look in her eye that I had tried to ignore as she wished me luck in finding my family, and I couldn’t help but think that she had some kind of familiar comfort about her as I felt connected to her in some odd way. 

The Smuggler didn’t say much to me or divulge her name, simply telling me to stay quiet and not touch anything, which I gladly heeded.Most of my time on her ship, which had definitely seen better days, was spent keeping myself out of her way and staring out the window at the stars.From the thrill that went through me at watching the galaxy whiz by, I had come to the conclusion that I must not have had much familiarity with flying, and I tucked that away into my mind as I grasped at the frayed ends of the torn memories I was trying to weave back together.

When I wasn’t looking into the darkness of space, I had caught little pockets of sleep when I could. Though I never fully remembered my dreams, flashes of images stuck with me upon waking. I recalled a smoking room, two shiny black objects, and... an egg? I could figure out what they meant, and the Smuggler didn’t seem the type to sit down and have girl talk sessions about them,

When I had boarded her ship, I had told her that my plan was to just inquire for my family at various planets along the way as I had no idea where to start, and she had merely shrugged, not too interested in my story.All she said was that she was headed to some kind of planet on the outer rim, that I was responsible for my own meals, and that I had exactly one-and-a-half hours from the time of docking to make my way back to her ship if I had decided to disembark or she was leaving me without question.

At present, I moodily ate my soup, allowing myself some slack since I had made it a pretty long way. I was now on a planet called Maldo Kreis, and while its icy surface was not as pleasant as Takodana, the distance was proof I was on my way to  _ something _ , but I was still unhappy with how little I remembered and my absolute loss at what I was supposed to do next. The words of that voice kept floating through my head as I caught myself muttering under my breath, looking around to make sure nobody had heard me angrily talking to myself. The last thing I needed was to stand out to anybody thinking I had lost it, even though _I_ knew I _definitely_ had.

I must have been so engrossed in my own little world that I didn’t realize the commotion that was happening around me when I lifted my head, blinking owlishly at the now-pandemonium.Two men, one human and one definitely _not_ , were struggling with a blue figure and tables were starting to clear. I saw the Smuggler waving her arms around in animation across the room, shilling out credits flamboyantly to some other life forms as it looked like they were taking bets on the winner.Wincing, I realized the crowds were closing in on my table, and I furled closer in on myself, protectively curling an arm around my half-finished soup that I couldn’t afford to spill as the blue man sobbed something about his own credits.

Suddenly, as the crescendo of sound reached its peak, the room went silent.Another moment of silence passed before whispers rippled through the crowd and I struggled to see over the people around me to find out the cause for the peace.I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear somebody speaking in a language that definitely wasn’t Basic, and two other voices.

“What’s happening?” I whispered to one of the patrons near me, a man with dark hair, who was practically bouncing with excitement.He stood out to me as he looked too young and too polished to comfortably fit in with the likes of the rest of the crowd.

“That one guy, you know the big ugly one, is explaining what happened,” he whispered back, and I cocked a brow at his description as I had thought that all parties involved were both pretty compromised in the looks department. I pictured the bearded human as the patron continued, “but he’s speaking some other language and—and the bartender is translating to the—the  _ wow _ ! I’ve never seen one before!”

“Seen one  _ what _ ?” I hissed, wishing I could see too. Before the patron could respond, he was jostled into the throng by the rest of the crowd, and I sighed, thrumming my fingers on the table in frustration.

Thinking of the time, I threw back the rest of my soup, which was now cold, and hesitated before tossing a credit on the table, unsure if it was this planet’s custom or if I could even afford to tip at this point, before grabbing my satchel, standing up, and skirting my way around the crowd to the door.I hoped that I wasn’t too late and the Smuggler hadn’t left without me. Maybe her gambling had bought me some time.

As I was about to face the icy winds of this planet again, something made me pause, my hand resting on the cool steel of the door. I turned halfway, glancing over my shoulder, and managed to see a gray metal helmet over the top of the crowd, somehow gleaming in the dim light of the cantina. Curiosity now getting the best of me, I stood stood on my tip toes, trying to see more. As I reached the fullest height I would ever get to, the helmet suddenly turned, and I stared at a T-visor, straight into where I would imagine the person’s eyes would be.

I was transfixed for a moment, feeling as though we were gazing at each other, although I knew he definitely was looking anywhere but me and that his helmet was only pointed in my general direction. I thought I felt the hint of a tug before someone elbowed me in the ribs, jostling me to the side as they rushed to exit the cantina. Mumbling an apology for being in the way although the person definitely could have said “excuse me” first, I braced myself at the cold blast of air and rubbed where a bruise was definitely forming as I followed the person through the door, moment forgotten.

As I squinted in the harsh winds, searching for the Smuggler’s ship in the darkness, I realized that somehow, in the past few moments riddled with chaos and disorder, one of the pieces fell into place. I had remembered my name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:   
> 1) Born to Die (Lana del Rey)  
> 2) My Heart is Buried in Venice (Ricky Montgomery)


	3. Chapter 2: The Wannabe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader tags along with an aspiring bounty hunter on the second leg of her journey, who later proves to be untrustworthy. In the ensuing chaos, she learns something about herself.

The Smuggler’s gambling had not, in fact, bought me more time and I was, in fact, definitely too late.Cursing myself for my poor time management and the three fighters for distracting me and the buckethead just for the hell of it, I had stood dejectedly outside the cantina none other than the younger patron came outside. We had struck up a conversation against the outer wall to try and shield ourselves from the wind as I half-listened to him recite the events from moments ago, more interested in trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do with myself now, when he started telling me about his adventures trying to get into some kind of guild.Springing at my chance, I put on the saddest face I could muster and began spinning the tale I had told on Takodana before asking if he would mind if I tagged along.I thought it was odd how quickly he agreed, repeating after me in a strange way, but quickly got over it as I went to shake his hand with a grin, so pleased with myself and my acting prowess.

The younger patron, who introduced himself as Toro Calican even though I knew I would forget his name given my current track record, was much more chatty than the Smuggler had been, although he seemed much more interested in talking about himself and becoming a bounty hunter than learning about me, which I was fine with.As I sat with him in the cockpit of his ship, I couldn’t help but feel like something was off with him. He was fidgety, messing with his dark hair every so often as he flipped various switches without confidence. Something told me to be on my guard around the wannabe bounty hunter, which was only reinforced when I noticed the hungry look in his eyes after I feigned being exhausted and wanting to retire.

Once the ship was steady, he pointed me to a small cabin, insisting he had one of his own and I wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance. I thanked the Maker that the door had a lock, and while calling the small space a cabin may have been generous as it was no more than a closet with a door leading to a small refresher and hard raised surface moonlighting as a bed bolted to the wall, it was the first semblance of privacy I had had since waking up by myself on Takodana. While I had tried hiding away from the Smuggler, her ship hadn’t exactly had many places to tuck away in, and I could always feel her eyes on me.

Now, in my small sanctuary, I managed to dump my bag out on the bed and count the credits I had left. The orange woman had been generous, but my lack of plan made me nervous as I didn’t know how long I would have to sustain myself on them.The only thing other that I seemed to own aside from the baggy clothes I was wearing, which I had purchased at a market at some planet in between Takodana and Maldo Kreis after catching the Smuggler sneering at my ragtag muddy ensemble one too many times, was a dark cloak that I had found in my bag after waking up. I may not have known much, but whoever packed that bag definitely didn’t do a good job preparing.

After a quick trip to the refresher and feeling the cleanest I had been in as long as I could remember, I sat on the bed, which had no give to it, and slowly put the credits back into my bag’s inner pocket.Leaning back, I tucked it under my head, using my rolled-up cloak as a pillow. I still felt on edge on this ship, but I couldn’t help when my eyes fluttered shut and told myself I would only rest for a moment.

It must have been more than a couple of moments when I roused to some kind of jingling noise. I sat up quickly, blinking the fogginess that only came with at least a few hours of sleep away. I didn’t dream of any imagery this time, but instead, kept hearing the words echo through my head repeatedly. _This is the way. This is the way._  


I didn’t have too much time to dwell as I saw the latch on my door wiggling in jerky motions as if whoever was moving it was trying to be quiet.Fear shot through me and I added myself to the list of people to curse since I knew I couldn’t trust that wannabe bounty hunter and despite me mentally screaming at myself to move, my legs wouldn’t budge.Dread washed over at the thought of what a man forcing his way into a locked room of a girl who had just admitted she was tired could have in mind.Time seemed to tick by in slow motion and at the last second, just when I thought he would be forcing his way in, one of my arms shot out automatically as if it had its own mind before I threw the other one over my eyes.For some unexplainable reason, all I could think of was that T-visored buckethead before I felt some kind of pull, like a spring, before hearing a metallic snap and a muffled curse.

I held my breath in silence, hearing what sounded like the Wannabe shuffling away, before dropping the arm from my eyes. My other arm hovered in the air as I slowly lowered it down, peering at the latch that was now firmly back in place.How had it managed to go back to that position when the wannabe almost had it open?I looked down to my palm and up at the lock again, suddenly remembering the same tugging sensation and the situation with my bag.

Before I could completely spiral, I calmly moved my cloak away from my bag, taking out one of the credits from the inner pocket, and placing it at the foot of the bed. I held my right arm up, palm facing the credit, and waited. Nothing happened.

“This is so dumb,” I muttered to myself, wondering if this is when I would finally crack from all that had happened to me.I flexed my arm, as if motioning for the credit to do something, but still nothing happened.“This is so dumb. _ I’m  _ so dumb.”

Crossing my arms together, I glared at the credit, thinking back to the bag and the lock and picking apart exactly what I had done. The bag felt like it had just appeared in my hand, but I had so wanted something, anything to stop the Wannabe from opening the door when the latch had slid back in place. Was I overthinking it? The more I thought about thinking I might be overthinking it, the more I realized that in those two situations, I hadn’t really thought at all.

A strange calming sensation took over, and I couldn’t help but feel like I had had that same realization in the past.  _Remember your training_ , that voice had said. As if it were second nature, I took a deep breath and relaxed my body on the exhale, rotating my neck in a slow circle to release the tension there. I stretched out my arm again, less rigid this time, and focused on the credit at the foot of the bed. I then closed my eyes and pictured a string extending from the credit to my palm and from my palm to my mind, wrapped around some mental pulley in my head.I inhaled slowly, picturing the pulled spinning, and felt a familiar tug before something cold smacked my hand.

Even before opening my eyes, I knew I had done it. That was interesting. _Very_ interesting. While I added that to the infuriatingly short list of things I knew, I realized this opened the door to a whole new slew of questions about myself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:   
> 1) You’re So Vain (Faster Pussycat)  
> 2) Stay Alive (Mustafa)


	4. Chapter 3: The Second Glance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader pauses on a new planet, taking the time to reflect on her minimal progress so far. When violence erupts, she is forced to flee, but not before seeing a familiar helmet again.

As I sat next to the Wannabe in the cockpit, stiff in my seat as I tried to be as far away from him as possible without him suspecting that I knew what he had tried to do the night before, I went over what I had found out. First, I couldn’t spend another night on this ship and needed to get as far away from the skeevy man as soon as possible; second, while I may have been mad, there was some kind of method to it as I apparently had magic powers; and third, the ghost voice knew about said magic powers and must’ve known I had some kind of training on them. That third one was the kicker.

“That fight that happened in the cantina the other night,” I started after some time, trying to be conversational and nonchalant to keep it from being too awkward, “what did you say that bucket—I mean that person in the armor was again?”

The Wannabe swiveled and gaped at me as if I were dumb or something. “Wow, you must have been _really_ tired,” he sneered in a tone that made me want to take the heel of my hand and shove his nose into his brain. “I mean, have you never _heard_ of them before? He’s a bounty hunter, why do you think we’re even _going_ to Nevarro? That’s where one of the guilds are.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I heard him mention a client there, so I’m assuming there’s work. If not, there’s always Tattooine...”

The Wannabe continued to ramble on about various guilds and it became clear I wasn’t going to get any of the actual answers I wanted out of him. Well, the more he talked about himself, the busier he was, which meant the less he was thinking about me. I couldn’t help but think that with the getup the buckethead had on, he was something more than just some bounty hunter like what the Wannabe was trying so hard to become.

I didn’t know how much time passed with the Wannabe continuing to talk to himself, but we found ourselves docked in a spaceport on the molten planet. I thanked the wannabe and gave him more credits than he deserved, telling him that I would like to stay for an indefinite amount of time to try and figure out how to go about finding my family.He offered to stay with me, which I declined probably a little too forcefully, before I managed to slink away and find some kind of inn within the settlement. I began the same old song and dance when telling the story I had become so good at delivering to the owner.I was apprehensive at first since the she was a hard-looking woman who was half my height with a scar across her wrinkled forehead and what may have been a permanent scowl, but it seemed that business had been slow and she was desperate for any kind of payment. We managed to work out an arrangement where I would pay minimal credits for lodging and meals in exchange for helping her run the small restaurant attached to her establishment, and my sort of new life began.

A few days went by and as I went through the motions of waking up and waiting on tables before closing the restaurant and cleaning for the innkeeper, I couldn’t help but feel like I was in limbo again. I knew I was supposed to be finding  someone , but I was stuck on some volcano planet with fewer and fewer credits to my meaningless name with absolutely no plan as to how to find him. Exhausted at nights from a full day’s work of serving patrons, which I was quickly learning I was not very good at, I would sit in my tiny room and work on practicing levitating my credits in my hand, working my way up eventually to my bag. While I didn’t remember enough about what these abilities were or how deep my knowledge was of them, I did the feeling that they were something I shouldn’t exactly be broadcasting to the general public.The covert practice only tended to last an hour or so before the fatigue would overtake me and I would eventually fall asleep. Lately, I dreamed of a large woolly creature with a giant horn and the last thing behind my eyelids before waking was that T-visor that was beginning to aggravate me. For some reason, I noticed that it had slightly changed more recently.

I tried to keep as optimistic and bubbly as possible, which worked in my favor as the patrons seemed to find my attitude refreshing, despite me constantly getting their orders wrong and breaking dishes and glasses. While the Innkeeper had threatened to throw me out at first, her raspy barks soon turned to begrudging grumbles when she realized that the restaurant had been busier after I had started working there than it had been in weeks. She even insisted that I call her “Granny” like the rest of the locals as more people started coming just for lively conversation.Judging from how gray the small settlement was, I couldn’t blame them for wanting some kind of entertainment, even if it were in the form of a clumsy woman who clearly didn’t know what she was doing.

As more days went by and my credits continued to dwindle, I couldn’t help but wish for some kind of sign.I couldn’t afford to stay here forever, and while I wasn’t aware of any kind of time limit on my quest, I couldn’t help but feel like I was wasting time. The patrons kept talking about some kind of group called Stormtroopers having an increased presence lately, and while I didn’t know much about them, I got a bad feeling about it all and couldn’t help but feel more pressure that I needed to make moves soon.

My sign came in a flurry of shouts and explosions as people ran through the streets, yelling of gunfire, bounty hunters, and armored men on jetpacks. Even steel-faced Granny seemed shaken as she told me to get my things and get off-planet if I knew what was good for me, telling me I was too young to be caught in this chaos and pressing a few credits into my hands along with a note directed at some person I was supposed to find to help me back at the shipyard. While she was still gruff, I stooped to hug her, and as her shaking, gnarled hands snaked their way across me after a moment of hesitation, I realized that she actually cared for me.

“Come with me!” I insisted after pulling away from her, feeling guilty for leaving her. I nearly jumped out of my skin as another explosion shook the ground, blinking away the dust that fell into my eyes from the crumbling ceiling.She shook her head, ushering me hurriedly to the door, shooing me out towards what I assumed was the direction of the shipyard.

“No, child,” she responded in her usual raspiness, though I noticed it was more strained. “My life is here, where my family has been for centuries. This inn is all I have and all I know. Whatever this conflict is, it will pass, and life will move on, but...” she paused, grasping my hands one last time with a strength I didn’t know she possessed, “but you need to leave. There is something special about you, child. The kind of specialness that dies if it stays here for too long.”

“Thank you,” I breathed, kissing her sandpaper cheek as I sprinted away, joining the throngs of screaming people.Luckily, the port wasn’t far away, and I managed to find the contact, a middle-aged man claiming to be a krill farmer from some backwater planet who regularly delivered spotchka to the inn.I remembered seeing him the day before as he dropped his shipment off and thanked the Maker for Granny’s quick thinking.

As we prepared to board the man’s modest ship, a barrage of gunfire lit up the air, and more screaming was heard. I noticed people were pointing and I whipped around to see that there were actually people in the sky as the crowds had yelled about earlier, fitted in armor that looked strangely familiar to the buckethead in the cantina...

The more I gaped at the fight in the distance, the more a strange feeling in the back of my mind worked its way into the front.I felt a thrill, as if I had leapt into the heart of battle when suddenly, a new armored figure rose in front of the others, and while the more rational part of me knew it was impossible, another part of me told me that it was the exact T-visor I had been dreaming of. His armor looked shinier and newer than when I had last seen him, but still, I knew it was him.

“We should go,” the man said beside me, startling me out of my thoughts before I could act on anything impulsive.I hadn’t realized that one of my feet had actually been outstretched, poised to carry me back towards the fray. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, guiding me up the ramp to his ship as I turned to follow him. Something screamed at me to stop as I halted to take one last look while the ramp began to pull itself up behind us when we were fully onboard.

“What is that?” I breathed, and while I could have been gesturing to the hoard on jetpacks as a whole, I was really referring to one specific buckethead.

“That,” the man responded, his voice wavering with an awed fear as he fiddled with the latch to the door. “Is something you definitely don’t see every day.”I found myself staring into the T-visor again as he spoke, and while the same rational part of me told me that it was impossible for it to be looking at me specifically from all this distance, I began to feel a familiar tug that seemed to connect us as the door slowly slid shut. “That is a Mandalorian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:  
> 1) i saw you in a dream (Japanese House)  
> 2) Runaway (Bon Jovi)


	5. Chapter 4: The Frog Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still frustrated by her lack of progress, The Reader spends her time learning to fit in among the villagers of her temporary home. While investigating a disturbance, she stumbles upon a strange little creature.

As I kicked another frog into a nearby krill pond, I couldn’t help but think that “backwater” was a pretty generous description of Sorgan.

True to the krill farmer’s description, there wasn’t much to the planet I was currently on other that frogs, krill, and too much moisture.The place was a pretty clear departure from both Maldo Kreis and Nevarro, and while I was thankful for the relative quiet following the excitement I had been through the past few weeks, I couldn’t help but feel I had taken another step back on my little mystery quest. After all, Sorgan wasn’t exactly the technological epicenter of the galaxy, and I doubted I could consult the frogs for advice on what my next move was.

I glanced down at the bowl of spotchka I was holding, which I still hadn’t acquired a taste for, and wondered if reading the dregs was a practice anybody had developed here in this swampy would-be sanctuary.

Spotcha aside, the positive was that I definitely didn’t need my credits here. The people of the small village operated on more of a barter system, trading cloth and food for other wares or for a hard day’s work.  


The krill farmer had introduced me to a young widow with kind eyes and a sad smile. I had been staying in her hut with her and her daughter while I assisted the rest of the villagers in farming their krill.My fingertips were probably going to be permanently pruned and I may have forgotten what being dry was like, but I was still thankful for all the luck the universe had bestowed upon me and the kindness of the strangers I had encountered so far. 

As I had told Omera my backstory over the first cup of spotchka she had offered me on my arrival, I couldn’t help but wince as she divulged her own, which was somber, depressing, and even worse — _true_.Her husband had been killed by raiders, which frequently antagonized the otherwise peaceful village, and she spent her time going through the motions and picking up the pieces of a world turned upside down. Her daughter, Winta, shy and quiet, had hid behind a curtain the whole time. I wouldn’t have known she was even there if it weren’t for the giggles that had erupted after I had choked on the first sip of spotchka. Omera had laughed as well, reassuring me that it was an acquired taste, but the sound seemed unnatural, as if she were out of practice.

Pouring my still-full cup into the krill pond and not dwelling too long on whether or not I was exposing them to some twisted form of forced cannibalism, I sighed and turned in the direction of the shared hut that may have been the closest thing to a home I might ever have.

While the first few nights I had spent wide awake in fear at the prospect of a sudden raider attack, thinking of the charred carnage that Omera had shown me from a recent skirmish, I began to feel more comfortable with the small village and admired the way that they continued to go about their business, seemingly undaunted by the danger that may have lurked deeper in the swamp as they worked to clean the blistered remains of the huts that did not escape unscathed.

Omera was actually a skilled markswoman in her own right and had been teaching me the proper way to shoot, though the bow and arrow had felt unnatural in my hands and I was still clumsy with them.She was a patient tutor, bearing with me as I veered completely off target more often than not, and I was determined to learn if only to be of some use in the event there was another raider attack. A darker part of me knew that a bow and arrow was no match against blasters. I tried my best not to acknowledge that part.

I felt deep down that I could trust Omera and her daughter, but I wasn’t sure how they would take the truth.It didn’t seem like the planet had any kind of insane asylums set up, but the minute I started talking about ghostly advice, an obscure mission, and demonstrated how high I could levitate a frog, I had the feeling they might erect the first one in my name.The archery lessons were sure to end after that.

“It would be really nice,” I sighed, grimacing at a frog that decided to hop out of the pond towards my feet, “if a certain _ghost_ would give me more advice.”I stared at the little green beast as it blinked up at me, one eye at a time, and wondered if it was the same one I had just kicked into the water. Or maybe this planet just had an endless supply of them? Taking a step back, it hopped towards me again, and I groaned. “Are _you_ my sign?”

I had hit a new low. Talking to some weird ghost and myself was one thing, but pinning my last hope on a frog was a different thing entirely.I shot it one last glare for good measure before slowly making my way back to the village. 

As I entered the perimeter, I heard my name being called, and I saw Winta running from our hut, waving her arms in animation.I caught her by the shoulders as she barreled into my ribcage, wheezing slightly as the breath was knocked out of me.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked, not catching a word of her torrent.She grinned up at me, a look that made me feel warm at how she had so quickly opened up and accepted me.I noticed that I generally felt uncomfortable around younglings, but she seemed at ease with me for some strange reason.

“Th-There was a ship!” she exclaimed, backtracking on what she had apparently been trying to explain. “We all saw it! It flew overhead a few hours ago while you were gone!”She pointed to the trees in the opposite direction than I had come from and I thought of the uncommon breeze I had felt previously back by the krill ponds.

I glanced up at Omera, who was standing with a few of the other parents in the village, bowls cupped in their hands. Her arms were crossed and she had a stern look on her face with her lips pursed and her brows drawn in. While Winta and the children all seemed to buzz with energy, the adults were more reserved.I ruffled Winta’s hair before she sprinted off to go talk to one of the other children.

“You don’t think it’s the raiders,” I observed, walking over to Omera and the others.The children would have been more fearful if it had been, and the adults would have been more on high-alert.

“No,” Omera responded after a beat, putting her empty bowl down and bringing one hand under her chin. When she shifted, I noticed her bow was strapped to her back as if in anticipation.She handed me a bowl of what thankfully wasn’t spotchka and I murmured my appreciation, looking down at the bone broth.

“So, what now?” I asked, gently blowing across the surface to cool it down.She hummed for a minute before dropping her arm to cross it back over her chest again.

“We are prepared, but it has been a few hours, so we do not sense an immediate threat.The children have been instructed to stay in sight and away from that part of the forest.” She tilted her head in the direction of where Winta had said the ship flew, giving me a pointed look. “You should follow the same advice.”

I rolled my eyes playfully at her, taking a sip of my soup.I really had no interest getting in any skirmishes with some unknown person, so readily agreed with her. I sat off to the side to finish my soup and she and the other adults dispersed to go about their afternoons. Still, I couldn’t help but stop and look at the trees every time I went to take another sip of my soup, the broth eventually forgotten as I tried to shake the feeling that I was meant to explore.

Frustrated with myself, I rested the half-finished bowl on my knees and huffed. I had promised Omera that I would stay away from that part of the forest, so that was that. Nodding to myself, I picked my soup up again, before setting it back down and sighing.

“Technically, I only agreed with her that I  should  _follow_ that advice, not that I  _ would _ ,” I muttered under my breath. Whose side was I on, exactly? I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at the trunks. Was this my sign?

I nearly tumbled off the rock I was sitting on when a frog suddenly decided to make itself known. I bolted upright as it gazed up at me. Not giving it a second thought, I called to Winta to tell her I was going on a walk before glaring at the frog, firmly grasping my soup, and striding right into the direction that I definitely supposed to be going in, signs be damned.

As I made my way through the marshy forest, I kicked the brush aside, getting more and more annoyed as I got deeper into the woods.I knew what I was doing was potentially dangerous, but I couldn’t stop my feet from moving as curiosity was getting the best of me. I didn’t know how long I had been walking before I came upon what looked like the outskirts of another village as I stopped, almost stepping on another frog. I nearly growled at it as it blocked my path with what I could have sworn was a cocky puff of its chest. Was it possible that it was the same frog that had been haunting me all day?

“I never want to see a frog again!” I spat, moving to punt it out of the way, but before I could even so much as lift my foot, quick as lightning, its feet were suddenly sticking out of the mouth of what looked like an even bigger frog.

I squealed, falling backwards and skittering away from the larger frog on my elbows and feet like a confused crab, soup sloshing as I stupidly still gripped the bowl. My heart threatening to jump out of my mouth. Catching my breath, I froze as the bigger frog just outright swallowed the smaller one with a satisfied slurp and looked at me calmly with a pair of gleaming black eyes the size of dinner plates.They seemed strangely familiar.

We stared at each other for a moment and it cocked its head at me. As I calmed down, I realized that it wasn’t a frog at all, but looked more like a wrinkly little green child with ears as disproportionately large as its eyes. Did it fly with those things?

I knew I should have just cut my losses and ran, but feeling oddly drawn to the little creature, I slowly got to my hands and knees, inching towards it.

As I got closer, it immediately reached two stubby arms out and I froze again before it started making grabby motions with its grubby little fists, three fingers on each hand. I realized it was motioning towards the soup bowl that I was still holding. After following its gaze, I saw that miraculously, there was still some broth left in it.I looked back at the creature, still making grabby motions as its head tilted expectantly.

“U-Uh, hello there,” I stammered, its ears twitching at my voice. I held one shaky arm out, the grabby motions intensifying as it twittered excitedly.I didn’t know what I had just gotten myself into, but somehow, my gut told me not to panic. _Yet_.“Want some soup?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:  
> 1) Maybe I’ll Go Nowhere (Ethan Gruska)  
> 2) Baby Hotline (Jack Stauber’s Micropop)


	6. Chapter 5: The Buckethead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader is finally “formally introduced” to the man behind in the helmet. Chalking their encounters up as more than mere coincidence, she begins to suspect he is a key piece in her vague mission. Unfortunately, they don’t exactly hit it off.

I watched the little green creature as it noisily slurped the broth while it still looked at me over the rim of the bowl, comically large in its tiny hands. It was kind of cute in a weird way and even seemed to blend into the planet’s flora with its green coloring and faded brown dress. If this thing ate frogs, maybe it was the answer to my recent predicament. Froggy-killer extraordinaire had a nice ring to it, maybe I could keep it around?

As I was musing about how many frogs this thing could eat in an hour, I suddenly heard what sounded like branches breaking and grunts. The creature seemed unperturbed, but I dove behind a tent at the same time two figures wrestled their way into the clearing in front of the Child.

I poked my head out and though I couldn’t see their faces, the one that wasn’t in full body armor knocked the other to the ground, though the one on the ground was more than prepared as a burst of flame was directed at the other before its arm was pinned. I looked around me, seeing this part of the village was deserted, and cursed my luck as I heard more grunting from the two struggling figures.A pang of concern briefly shot through me as I considered ducking back out to pull the oblivious creature to safety to avoid it from either getting squished like the frogs it apparently liked to eat or charred to a crisp with all the pyrotechnics. 

Before I could act, the one pinned down managed to free itself with a clang, sprawling on the ground as they both pointed their blasters at each other. I stifled a gasp at the familiarity of the T-visor, kicking my rational self that always tried to tell me how impossible things were out of the mental door. I knew this was the Mandalorian I had seen before, somehow encountering him for a third time on this ragtag tour of the galaxy I had found myself on.If that wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what was. 

The two suddenly stopped struggling. I held my breath, praying to the Maker that I hadn’t just given myself away, but I saw that they were instead staring at the creature, bowl held to his face. _Sluuuurp_.

“Want some soup?” The Mandalorian’s voice, though modulated, was distinctly male, and I ignored the thrill that shot through me at the sound of it.So much for keeping covert, because before I knew what I was doing, I just had to open my stupid mouth. 

“That’s _my_ line!” I exclaimed, clapping my palm over my mouth with a dumb squeak as I ducked my head back behind the tent. When there was nothing but silence, I could have been giddy. Maybe they hadn’t heard!Peeking back out again, I looked down the business ends of two blasters, and frowned. Oh, they had. 

“There’s _two_ of you now?” The non-buckethead, a woman, looked more exasperated than angry, her blaster still pointed at me as she jerked her head towards the helmeted figure.

“I don’t know him!” I snapped, putting my palms up above my shoulders in what I hoped was a peaceful gesture. “Well, I mean I _do_ , but I don’t!”

“What the hell does _that_ even mean?” she snapped back, looking at the Mandalorian and turning her blaster back on him as quickly as he turned it back on her. Taking a step back, both of them were turned at me again. A nervous giggle bubbled its way out of my mouth. 

“Look! I’m obviously no threat to the both of you,” I squawked, arms still in the air. “You’re all outfitted in  _ that _ with  _ those _ ,” I waved my hands towards their well-protected bodies and blasters before waving at my own linen-clad, weaponless body for emphasis, “and all I have is  _ this _ !” 

The woman snorted, putting one hand on her hip and shifting all her weight to that leg, scratching her temple with her blaster.

“That’s for sure,” she scoffed, the Mandalorian slowly lowering his own weapon as well.Blaster aside, from the looks of her arms, she could just as easily rip me apart.What did a gal have to do to develop muscles like that?

Something told me levitating frogs to pass the time wasn’t the answer.

“You said you know me,” he deadpanned, helmet fixed on me.All thoughts about my potential new fitness regimen flew out the window. His weapon may have been lowered, but I knew he could draw it and have my head splattered all over the tent next to me in a heartbeat.“Explain how.”

“I specifically said ‘I do, but I don’t!’” I retorted, punctuating my words with air quotes.Though I couldn’t see his eyes, the pure disdain he radiated could have been enough to melt the tin can on his head. I winced at the way I tended to have an attitude when I was nervous. “I mean...” I saw his arm twitch to raise his blaster at me again as I rushed out, “I’ve seen you before! Twice! Once on Maldo Kreis, once on Nevarro!”I swallowed, flapping my still-raised arms above my head. “I mean, you don’t exactly _blend_ in with—”

“You have been tracking me, then?” He sounded skeptical, a gloved hand tensing on on the blaster.I would have burst out laughing if I wasn’t so frustrated with the situation.My arms were starting to ache.

“Do I  _ look _ like a tracker to you?” I nearly stomped my foot, probably moments away from death by blaster.Gut feeling be damned, this guy couldn’t have been who I was supposed to find.If it was, that ghost voice could shove it.I decided that Mandalorian was too friendly of a term for him. From here on out, he’d be plain old Buckethead.

“Well, this was fun,” the woman interrupted, sarcastically butting in before the Buckethead could question me further.“As much as I’d  _ love _ to chat more, I should get going.”She turned and marched her way towards the rest of the village, seemingly uncaring that her back was exposed to the person she had just been brawling with moments before. 

“This is a waste of time,” the Buckethead stated, my head whipping back to look at him. “If you are not a tracker, how have you managed to encounter me three times?”

“Coincidence?” I squeaked, still skittish around the man in the bucket and his blaster.I chewed on the inside of my cheeks, debating whether or not to go out on a limb and just tell him the situation. He tilted his bucket, the lack of response telling me he was unconvinced. I had a feeling if I didn’t say something soon, he’d just cut his losses and do away with me. “Look, you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I think something is leading us to each other! The ghost said so!”

“The ghost.” Those two curt words dripped with cynicism.

“Heh, well, it wasn’t actually a ghost... it was just a voice. Of a person who wasn’t really there...” I trailed off, aware that my arms had gone numb. “Look, can I put my hands down now or something? This is _really_ uncomfortable!”

“No.”If I wasn’t so sure that the Buckethead would liquify me into human spotchka without any second thoughts, I would punt his helmet into a krill pond like those stupid frogs.“You will stay right as you are and I am leaving.”

“You can’t leave!” I blurted, watching as he picked up the little green creature, who I had forgotten about.Was that his pet? Or maybe his child? Was he green under that tin can? I began to lower my arms to plead with him.

“You move and I shoot.” My arms shot back up again as I glared.“I work alone.”For someone that may have been my destiny, he was a real jerk.I wondered how the ghost voice would actually take it if I told him to fuck off.

What was the worst that could happen? I had at least remembered my name, and the people on Sorgan were nice enough.Did I really need to know my full backstory? I could probably eventually acquire that taste for spotchka Omera had talked about, and frogs weren’t too bad.

As I watched the Buckethead walk away, little green creature waving its now-dry bowl of soup at me over the man’s shoulder, I couldn’t help but feel the emptiness creep back. I felt that familiar tug in my chest and my stomach dropped.I had to try one more time to convince him of all of this.If I could change his mind, maybe the ghost voice would give me another clue as to why exactly I needed to find him. That’s how quests normally worked, right?

Rather than following him and giving him another excuse to kill me, I lowered my screaming arms and turned towards the direction of my tiny village when he was fully out of sight.I had no idea how long he would be staying on Sorgan, but took a gamble that he would be there in the morning. This would buy me more time to think of how to possibly make him give me the time of day.

I basically had two options, and that was if I got so far as convincing him of all this. The first option was for him to join me, but I didn’t exactly have it together. I also doubted he’d be enthusiastic about a lifetime of krill eating on Sorgan. The second option was for me to join him, and while this was definitely the more logical one, the whole “I work alone” thing may prove to be a bit of a hurdle to overcome.

The Buckethead and the Potentially Crazy Amnesiac Who Hears Ghost Voices and Has Magic Powers! That didn’t exactly have a ring to it, but I could workshop it later.

“What a jerk,” I grumbled, kicking another frog out of the way on my walk back.Not only was he a jerk in a bucket, but his little green monster had taken my bowl. That was theft! I sighed, wondering how I got wrapped up in such a situation. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:  
> 1) Silent Lucidity (Queensrÿche)  
> 2) Jerk (Oliver Tree)


	7. Chapter 6: The Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The villagers hire the Mandalorian and Cara Dune to help them defend their village. The Child shows the Reader his latest tricks, which she isn’t wholly appreciative about.

After this whole mission thing blew over, I apparently should have headed straight to a planet with casinos, because my gamble had paid off.I nearly burst out laughing when I went to exit the barn the next morning and ran straight into the too-familiar bucket I had dreamed about all night.It would have been comical if my arms weren’t still so sore.And if I hadn’t just met him nose-first.

“And _you_ said I wasn’t a tracker,” I sniffed, rubbing my nose after I had bounced off of his chest plate.He stood still, a silent sentinel of metal as his helmet tilted down towards me.First my arms, now my nose. This guy really knew how to treat a lady.

“You are acquainted with each other?” Omera peered from around the man, her eyebrows drawn in puzzlement. 

After I had returned from my little excursion the night before, she had given me a full inquisition of my whereabouts, though the confrontation with the Bucket conveniently never came up. She had been too keyed up with worry over the fact that I had pretty much ignored any shred of common sense for me to exactly give her all the details in good conscience.

“We’ve met in passing,” I responded quickly, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared up at the helmet. I had to tilt my head all the way back to do so as I had barely cleared his shoulder.Add a stiff neck to my growing list of minor injuries and I was on my way to the galaxy’s most undesirable collection of wares.“What is he doing here, exactly?”

“Caben and Stoke came upon him last night and hired him to help protect our village.”Omera gave him a furtive glance, as if apologetic for answering on his behalf. I didn’t particularly care if I was being rude by talking about him as if he weren’t standing right in front of me at the moment.“Well, him and his partner.”

“Partner?” That definitely surprised me. I felt my brows shoot up into my hairline at the word.Over his shoulder through the doorway, I saw the woman he had been fighting with the day before. She was speaking with a few villagers a short distance away as the children were buzzing around with boxes. That was interesting. “What happened to ‘ _I work alone_ ’?” I dropped my voice and stiffened my arms at my side, doing my best sarcastic impression of his own modulated one.

“A job is a job.” This Bucket really had a way with words. Maybe he waxed poetic when nobody was around.I bet he kept his journal of prose under that helmet of his.

“I was just showing him where he is to stay.” Omera gestured around the rest of the space pointedly, throwing me an odd look at the tension she must have sensed.She walked around him, placing herself in between us, giving me another odd look before looking back to him. “I hope this is comfortable for you.Sorry that all we have is the barn.”

“This will do fine,” he responded simply.Omera looked away and there was silence again. Awkward.

So the green creature was his child, not his pet.In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rip his helmet off and see if he was just a larger version of the little monster.Were his ears even larger, or were they just an indication that the child would eventually grow into its own?

I heard a tiny squeak and the Buckethead reeled, armor clanging as he whipped his body towards the doorway.For a big guy, he sure was stealthy. I noticed that Winta was hovering at the entrance to the hut, eyes rapidly flitting between the Buckethead and I as she flinched back from his opposing frame. Omera hurriedly made her way towards her and wrapped her arms around her tiny frame.

“This is my daughter, Winta.”She smoothed her hair back from her forehead gently, smiling down at her. “We don’t get a lot of visitors around here.She’s not used to strangers.”Omera gave me a thoughtful look. “Although she has warmed up to some faster than others.”

She squeezed her shoulders slightly, directing her words at Winta, “This nice man is going to help protect us from the bad ones.” I could have snorted at Omera describing this jerk as _nice_.Even if I knew it was for Winta’s sake.

“Thank you.” Winta’s voice came out as a whisper and she still seemed unsure.I moved towards her, figuring I could spare her from his enthralling conversational prowess.

“Why don’t we go see what the other children are doing?” I put a hand on her shoulder, nodding at Omera.She gave Winta another encouraging smile and me a grateful look.As I steered Winta away from the barn, I heard a soft gurgle, and looked down to see the Buckethead’s little green child.

It blinked up at me owlishly, its too-big obsidian eyes sparkling, before reaching out with its stubby arms, opening and closing its hands rapidly like it had done when it wanted my soup.“Hello again, little frog killer.”

I crouched down, its grabby motions intensifying as I got closer to its level. When I was within its reach, it placed a three-fingered hand on my cheek, and I felt my breath leave me. 

My eyes slid shut automatically as a cacophony of noise screamed through my head.Colors flashed behind my eyelids and I realized that they were actually images, although I couldn’t discern what they were of. It felt like I was caught in a whirlwind, spinning too fast to distinguish any one thing from the other.The sounds and colors blended together and just as my brain threatens to explode, it all stopped.

Everything was clear and white. 

I opened my eyes abruptly, blinking rapidly in the sunlight. I heard a coo as the Child came into focus, and looked up at Winta.Despite feeling like I had sprinted through the galaxy and back, the whole encounter must have happened in a heartbeat as Winta was still looking at me expectantly. The others also seemed unperturbed, as if my very being hadn’t just been ripped to shreds and spliced back together again in a matter of moments.The Child patted my cheek twice. I winced, bracing myself for another sensory assault, but nothing more happened. 

“I need to stop asking for signs,” I grumbled under my breath, still tense. The Child whined, patting my cheek harder this time. It grabbed at the collar of my tunic, fisting the cloth and yanking, whining louder.Winta giggled. 

“I think it wants you to pick it up,” she observed. I glanced over my shoulder at the Buckethead, taking the fact that he hadn’t immediately reached for his blaster at the notion as a good sign. Signing, I frowned back at the Child, who now had both hands scrunched in the material of my clothes.

Placing my hands under its little arms, I kept my grasp on it as I stood up slowly, miraculously not dizzy from its little display.I knew I must have looked awkward, holding it as far away from my rigid body as its arms would go, but I didn’t really know how to carry it. It yanked harder, as if it wanted to be closer to me, and I heard Omera laugh. 

I turned towards her, child in tow, helplessly grimacing as it continued to pull, now babbling insistently.

“Uh, help,” I said, jerking my head towards it. I was somehow more afraid of this green nightmare than I was of its father, who had already threatened to kill me. I knew the man could stomp me out no problem, but this kid had its own tricks up its tattered tan sleeves.Together, they must have been the terror of the galaxy.What a curious pair. 

“Here, like _this_.” Omera reached out, manipulating my stiff arms closer to my body so that the Child was rested against my chest sideways.It squirmed to face me, unclamping my tunic to place both hands on either side of my face. I fought another flinch, nearly crying in relief when it was clear it didn’t seem to want to repeat its performance again.It instead tapped my cheeks, babbling excitedly. 

“Maybe it’s hungry?” Winta suggested, curiously stepping closer.She tugged at my elbow as she stood on the tips of her toes, pushing closer to the Child.Her face brightened when it turned towards her and tilted its head in acknowledgement. “What does it eat?”

“Frogs.” The word tumbled from my mouth the same time the Bucket uttered it.I quirked a brow at him. His helmet was steady on the Child and I could tell he didn’t seem wholly comfortable with it being in a stranger’s arm, though he still made no protest. 

“It will eat anything, really,” he said, tilting his helmet down at Winta. “I’m sure whatever you have is fine.”

“Let’s go!” Winta gave my elbow another little squeeze, pointing in the direction of a gaggle of children huddled by one of the fires.I moved to follow her, giving the child in my arms a wary look.It dropped its hands from my face in favor of twisting in my arms to face the direction we walked in. 

“Keep an eye on the tableware,” I grumbled. The Child tilted its ears towards me, placing one hand on my collar and pulling, its other arm straining at the large pot bubbling over the fire. My already large tunic would be stretched five sizes by the end of the day.I sighed. “You owe me another bowl, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:   
> 1) Don’t Give Up On Me (Andy Grammer)  
> 2) Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)


	8. Chapter 7: The Great Pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader is not a gifted shooter, despite Cara Dune’s best efforts to teach her. Fortunately, she finds she may be skilled in another weapon. The Mandalorian isn’t necessarily pleased.

Carasynthia Dune — Cara for short — was a Certified Badass, and if _anybody_ could teach me how to shoot a blaster, it was her. Unfortunately, the former shock trooper was having trouble in that department.

To stand any kind of a chance against the raiders, Cara and the Buckethead had taken it upon themselves to train the rest of the villagers, myself included.Soon after their arrival, they had investigated the trails, estimating we would be up against about 20 raiders. Even worse, they had discovered footprints of an AT-ST raider. When they then claimed that it was more than they had signed up for and the villagers should just pack up and move somewhere else, that was a hard blow.

In the resulting argument, I may not have made my mission to get any closer to the Buckethead and convince him to let me join his travels any easier. The minute he had told the villagers they couldn’t live here anymore, I may have snapped and called him a “two-faced liar with a tin can for brains,” which hadn’t gone over too well.

I couldn’t help it. I had been furious at the thought that the villagers, who had taken me in as one of their own, would have to rebuild their lives again and leave the ponds that their ancestors had seeded. This village was generations in the making, and I couldn’t just stay silent without telling Cara and the Bucket that they at least deserved a fighting chance.The farmers had begged for them to give them that chance, and when Omera had put her foot down to firmly say they weren’t leaving, Cara and the Bucket had relented, agreeing to show us how to fight.

The villagers were eager to learn and took up their training zealously. While Omera had upgraded from her bow and arrow straight to some kind of intimidating-looking grenade launcher, I was currently struggling with the basics. Cara, whose past in the military and more recent work as a mercenary had molded her into a hardened disciplinarian, was somehow at a loss.

“You’re holding it wrong.”Her words were curt as she pinched the bridge of her nose, turning her face towards the sky.She gestured vaguely with one hand, refusing to look at me.

“ _ Again _ ?” While I knew awkwardly grasping the blaster like a dead fish definitely _wasn’t_ the right way to go about it, I still couldn’t help but groan. We had been at this for a few days already and I was turning out to be the dunce of the class. The other villagers got to do cool things like blow up targets and run around in the forest and I was stuck in How To Hold Your Blaster 101.

I heard a coo and turned slightly to see the Child perched on a nearby rock. Its ears twitched up and down animatedly, as if they were nodding at Cara. “Ugh! Now I have a _frog muncher_ trying to correct me!”

“Even a child can tell you aren’t very skilled at this,” a modulated voice deadpanned from behind me. Looks like I was gaining an audience. I swiveled, glaring at the Buckethead and fought the urge to chuck the blaster at him. At the rate I was learning, I’d have a better shot at making contact that way than pulling the trigger.

Cara called my name to get my attention and approached me. “Maybe that’s enough for today.”She extracted the weapon in question from my hands and gave the Bucket a short nod in greeting.

“Yeah, probably.”I blew a few stray hairs out of my face, feeling myself deflate.On the bright side, one thing that I was absolutely sure of is that I didn’t have any kind of career with guns prior to waking up on Takodana.Cross that burning question off the list!

I put my hands on my hips, needing some kind of outlet, and huffed at the Buckethead, “shouldn’t you be off polishing that tin can on your head?”

Cara snorted as the Bucket clenched and unclenched his gloved hands at that.That seemed to still hit deep as he may have been sensitive from my insult a few days prior. The Child chittered at her laugh, a toothy smile on its face as if it were in on the joke.

“ _Beskar_ ,” the Bucket corrected. Though the modulation usually resulted in him being terminally monotone, I was getting better at picking up the strain. It sounded like his teeth were clenched. “It’s not a tin can, it’s  _ beskar _ . And it’s _very important_ —”

“Yeah, yeah. Important to your culture. I know, you Buckethead.”It was incredibly rude for me to be so flippant of somebody’s culture, even his, but I was tired, sweaty, and in need of something to drink other than spotchka. Him and his beskar.

Omera had actually explained a good amount about his culture to me, having gotten him to open up slightly to her in the barn after Winta and I had left to go feed the Child.Mandalorians swore some kind of hardcore creed, which prevented them from being able to take off their helmets in front of anybody. They also placed a lot of value on foundlings, which is what the Child was to the Buckethead. From that, I guessed that it meant the Bucket may not have necessarily looked like Frog Killer the First.Omera had seemed hesitant at that part, as if she knew more than what she was telling me, but it had been late at that point.

“Alright, break it up, you two,” Cara chastised, giving my shoulder a good-natured clap. I stumbled forward, rubbing where her hand had made contact, but she didn’t notice.She really didn’t know her own strength sometimes.“Mando, how are the other preparations?”

“The  _ other _ villagers,” the pointed word was like a stab in the jugular, “are making good progress. We might actually have a shot at this.”I clenched my jaw at his obvious slight.

“Look, maybe guns just aren’t my thing, ok?” I blurted defensively.I noticed the Child’s ears droop at the tension. It must have been some kind of empath or something. “Can’t we try something else? Hand-to-hand? A stick? _Anything_?”

The two stared at me. I could hear the frogs croaking in the uncomfortable silence. I was about to go jump in krill pond when Cara suddenly snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.”

She reached into her belt, pulling what appeared to be a metal tube that was sized three quarters of the length of her arm from behind her back and held it out to me, palm up. “I pocketed this from one of my earlier jobs. Not really my style, but thought it could come in handy in a pinch.” She shrugged. “It was free.”

“You want me to fight off raiders with a  _ pipe _ ?” I couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. “Is this some kind of legit battle or a prison brawl?”

“Hey, you said ‘anything,’ didn’t you?” She rolled her eyes at me, jerking her hand out again for emphasis. “Come on, just take it.”

I reached out hesitantly and took it. It was much heavier than it looked, but felt surprisingly comfortable in my hands.My fingers were able to wrap all the way around the cold steel far enough that my thumb overlapped the tip of my index finger.  The handle was a dark gray color with spots of bronze patina and had dimples in it to provide grip. I turned it over, marveling at how familiar it felt. Had I held one of these before?

As if second nature, I knew exactly where to press.

“Just be careful with—”

Before she could finish that warning, a sharp metallic sound rang out as I extended the staff. It sang through the air and glinted in the sunlight, twirling effortlessly.The staff tapered slightly towards the ends, which were blunt and felt weighted. This could probably do some damage.I wondered if it could dent beskar. 

“—With that button.” Cara looked dumbfounded for once, and if I could see the Bucket’s face, I would imagine he did too.“Are you _sure_ you  never held one of those before?”

“Beginner’s luck,” I muttered, feeling a slow grin stretch stretch its way across my face.The staff just felt like an extension of myself, as if its use was ingrained in me. I may have felt out of place holding a blaster, but I felt right at home holding the staff.

Still, something seemed slightly off, as if it wasn’t exactly what I was used to. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I pointed one end at Cara and she jumped back in shock, hands springing up to automatically grab her blaster. Must have been a reflex. “Are you going to teach me how to use this thing, or what?”

“Alright, just watch where you point that.”She gave me a wary look, putting the safety of her blaster on and resting it on her shoulder. “The woods here a pretty dense with trees, so the open space is minimal. This gives you a slight advantage as the raiders will be forced to shoot at a closer range.”She stepped back a few steps. “I’m going to come at you. Pretend I’m a raider that just jumped out from behind a tree. I want you to do your best to disarm me.”

Without so much as giving me a countdown, she lunged, lifting the blaster off her shoulder and moving to aim it at me. In one uniform motion I crouched, widening my stance for balance, and ducked under where her shot would have been aimed towards me head. Dancing on a diagonal, I brought one end of the staff up on an angle, uppercutting the gun out of her hands. It went flying through the air as I finished my arc with another twirl, landing at the Buckethead’s feet. 

I straightened, pressing on the handle again to make it retract.Oh, yeah. Guns may not have been my thing before Takodana, but staffs _definitely_ were. 

The Child clapped enthusiastically, a stream of gibberish falling from his lips as he bounced up and down in excitement.Cara’s jaw was nearly on the ground as she gaped openly.After blinking three times, she snapped it shut and her eyes narrowed. 

“Some beginner!” she exclaimed. I couldn’t tell if she was proud or annoyed. She went to retrieve her blaster, which the Buckethead had picked up and was holding out to her. She grabbed it and shoved it in its holster aggressively. “Ha!” She shook her head. “I’d say we’re probably done for the day. From the way you handled that, looks like your beginner’s luck may be permanent.I don’t think you need my expertise there.” 

She shook her head again and walked away from us, muttering to herself the whole time. I felt giddy. Not only had I accomplished something, but another piece of my life was starting to click into place. If only I could remember why I knew how to handle a staff so well. 

“Wait.” The word was sharp and made me put the foot that was about to follow Cara back to the village down. I turned slightly to face the Buckethead. “Just what are you playing at, orphan girl?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I replied evenly, not liking the edge to his tone. His body was rigid and he had placed himself between where I was standing and where the Child was still sitting. I already knew he didn’t trust me, but somehow, his distrust had grown. 

“You played the part of a helpless damsel in distress so well.” He stepped toward me, further blocking my view of the Child. Although the kid was still a little monster, it was starting to grow on me, and a pang of sadness shot through me at the notion that the Bucket thought I would ever harm it.“Yet you just masterfully disarmed a former soldier. With a weapon that you claimed to have never used before.” Another step. “Tell me, are your intentions pure, or you some kind of planted raider spy?”

“So you’re admitting that I’m not helpless, then.” It wasn’t a question. I rushed to get the words out to cut him off from making any other accusations. “First of all, I didn’t ‘play any part’ in anything, and second of all, I never claimed to have never used this staff.”I tucked said staff into the hem of my pants to free up my hands and folded my arms across my chest. 

I could feel the red seeping into my vision as my anger grew. It was hot, like a flash in a pan, although some of it didn’t even feel like my own. I would have felt worse at the way the Child’s ears had further dropped if it wasn’t for the deafening sound of blood flowing in my ears. 

I was getting dangerously worked up. Since when was he allowed to speak to me that way, and how dare he question my intentions? I may have lied to the villagers, but it was only out of necessity. In a twisted way, I had done it for him after all! Right? Well, I could think more about that later. 

“ _Furthermore_ ,” I railed on, using my irritation as an outlet for my own guilt that was starting to make itself known, “if you had taken the time to  listen to me instead of worrying about covering your own shiny ass, maybe I could have explained everything better, but nooo!” I threw my hands in the air in exasperation. “Here you are, butthurt at me calling you a Buckethead, but not once have you ever said my name. You never even asked for it. Do you even  _ know _ it?”

No response. I took that as a cue to keep going. “It’s all about money to you, and when the risk isn’t worth the reward, you decide to bow out on a promise.” I tilted my head mockingly. “Did you forget that I was the one who stood up for the villagers, or do you really have a  _tin can_ for brains ?”

“You will _not_ speak to me like that,” he seethed, pointing a nearly thrumming gloved finger at me.

“I just _did_!” I yelled, actually stomping my feet at him. “I think we’re done here.”I pivoted and began to stalk away from him before changing my mind and abruptly whirling back around. I was on a roll today. “Oh, one more word of advice.While you’re able to hide behind that bucket and the rest of us don’t have that convenience, don’t think you can judge us by our looks just because you have a facade.The weapon doesn’t make the warrior.” I gave a mock bow and sneered, “after all, some of us are _great pretenders_.”

Satisfied that I had my fill, I turned around again and marched off towards the village, still fuming.Although satisfied with the fact that I had been able to get the last word in, the smugness faded with each step I took.While I may have had the upper hand in some petty argument, I had soured any kind off hope that the Buckethead would ever accept me.He would never let me join him now.

I stopped by a krill pond, just short of bashing my head against the posts that held the netting up over it. Instead, I rested my forehead against the wood, taking a shaky breath to calm myself, a million questions running through my mind.

Why did I know how to use the staff? Was I really some great pretender, like he implied? Was I dangerous? Was I a threat to the people of this village?

Was the guilt I felt purely mine, or was there any hope that he might have shared it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Songs:  
> 1) Welcome To The Jungle (Guns N’ Roses)  
> 2) The Great Pretender (Freddie Mercury)


End file.
